~ Digging for laughs

Monthly Archives: Jan 2015

When the lump of asteroid went blazing across the sky some sixty five million years ago, destination Chicxulub, do you suppose that the dinosaurs knew that it was a chunk of Baptistina, knocked off the old block by a cosmic collision, eons before? I can’t tell you how I know the name of the originator of the disaster; I have a mind like an attic sale, there is all sorts of interesting stuff up there but much is dusty and a lot is of uncertain provenance. Did Tyrannosaurus Rex look at the celestial light show and think “Oh poop, why me?” I’m quite a nice person, kind to animals and children provided that they are polite. I try to stick to speed limits when driving and return library books on time. One of my hellebores has black death. What did I do to deserve this?

Black death on hellebores

The malady is a virus probably spread by aphids, unlike bubonic plague which was a bacterial infection distributed by rats. The diseased bits are streaked with black along veins and appear much darker and quite different from the usual brown blotches which turn up on old leaves, fungal in origin and thus treatable. No, unlike that other Black Death which some fortunate souls survived, this is utterly terminal and unless I dig up a favourite pretty double flower, I risk the spread of the sickness to the rest of my forty strong collection of Lenten roses. Many of them came from an advert in a horticultural magazine, which promised sturdy specimens, well grown. When they arrived they were newly germinated seedlings, bare rooted, wilting and minuscule. I potted them up, grew them on and spent years agonising over their progress. Last spring was the first time that I achieved a decent show of bloom.

Cactus cuttings

I’m not ruthless enough for this game. I always nurture something sick, in the thin hope that it will make a last minute recovery. I dare not fart about in this case, as all of the experts give unyielding and unequivocal instructions to destroy affected plants, sterilize equipment, incinerate the foliage and get measured up for a containment suit.

Cynara cardunculus (artichoke) – new spring growth

Right, now I’ve postponed and procrastinated, even written about it; finally I have mustered my inner terminator and done the deed. The ailing plant was pathetically small and not worth instigating a bonfire pyre so I’ve loaded up the wood burning stove and dropped the sad corpse into the flames like a sacrifice to the household Gods. I’m not a happy gardener. I’m basically vegetarian, so will not be making offerings of live chickens or slaughtering other livestock in an attempt to affect the future, however I need something upon which to vent my spleen. Should next door’s scrofulous little yappy dog jump over the fence and commit heinous and insanitary acts in my vegetable patch it may find itself, like the dinosaurs, out of luck.

I’ve just been out skimming the pond, collecting the floating detritus from a week of windy weather. Akira and Takeshi have a look on their fishy faces that I last saw on my grandmother, when they cancelled the televised wrestling in favour of coverage of a darts match. Bulbs are sprouting but there is little in bloom, apart from the modest green beads of ivies and Fatsia japonica. This is the time when you regret not investing in something to brighten this winter, last year. I bought Cyclamen, because their leaves are interesting and the flowers have a windblown appeal reminiscent of Pooh’s friend Piglet, with his ears streaming out behind him in the breeze. Since they are all of short stature, they crouch down out of the reach of most gales. In English, the common name is the same as the Latin, by way of the ancient Greek for a circle, for the shape of the tuber. Pigs are supposed to like to eat them, hence the old name of sowbread but porkers had better not try it in my garden, if they wish to stave off sausagehood.

Cyclamen hederifolium

Most cyclamen species originate from the Mediterranean and are dormant in summer, their leaves sprouting in the autumn, staying colourful through the winter, and withering next spring. C. purpurascens and C. colchicum originate from cooler regions and their leaves remain through the summer and shrivel only after the next year’s foliage has developed. Flowering time may be any month of the year, depending on the species. C. hederifolium and C.purpurascens bloom in summer and autumn, C. coum blooms in winter and C. repandum in spring. The florist’s Cyclamen persicum is not hardy and should be grown indoors unless you are entirely frost free. In which case, let me know your address and I will send you a personal note full of envy, spite, greed, bile and resentment.

Fatsia japonica (castor oil plant)

Grow the plants in part shade in any moderately fertile, humus-rich, well-drained soil, avoiding excessive summer moisture. Mine thrive in sand, only lightly leavened with compost. They suit naturalisation amongst the roots of deciduous trees, where falling leaves do the job of mulching without a need for you to seize a rake and get sweaty or grubby. Plant tubers 3-5cm (1¼-2in) deep and several to a large hole, in groups of odd numbers. Don’t plant them too deeply or they may not flower. Remember where you put them, to avoid scalping them when you are wielding a hoe as if you were an Olympic competitor. To help them to establish quickly, plant when the roots are visible. This will also help to distinguish between the top and bottom of the tuber, although in my view, anything without natural clear planting instructions deserves what it gets.

Euphorbia ‘Silver Swan’

When the petals fade, the stems coil up and gently place the seeds upon the soil. I love the idea that here at last is a specimen that isn’t going to wait for me to mollycoddle. It’s much too cold out there for anything other than a little light gardening and then only as a spectator sport.

Can you reach the bits of apple trees that require attention? Far be it from me to encourage you to strap on high altitude kit and shinny up some vast, ancient plant that has been fruiting for decades without fuss. If you need to hire a cherry picker or scaffolding to reach the branches, assure yourself that it will get by without you or hire a trusted professional to risk their neck. If you can attain the necessary height from modest step ladders and the surface beneath is grass not concrete, imprison pets or infants temporarily, tool up or instruct your partner and follow me.

Helleborus foetidus ‘Wester Flisk’ (stinking hellebore)

This is the time for routine winter pruning of spur bearing hardy fruits. Start by removing anything crossing, rubbing, weak, diseased, damaged or dead. If that’s not enough for you, shorten lateral stems to encourage side shoots which will become festooned with blossom and thence bear produce. Don’t chop the most vigorous leaders, or you will encourage sprawling habit at the expense of the crop. You should aim to take off a maximum of 10 to 20 % of the canopy per year. Resist the red mist which makes you want to attack the entire tree like a lumberjack on amphetamine. Restrict long laterals to five or six buds, weaker ones to two or three. If you are a beginner at this, think Zen and go gently. Tickle the side shoots into compliance and if you get it wrong, you won’t be left with a bare trunk with all the insouciant charm of a telegraph pole.

Waiting for spring

As with all pruning, aim for an open crown based on a goblet shape, which allows air circulation and light to reach all of the essential parts. After some years of lusty production, spurs will become congested and call for thinning. If last year’s apples were squeezed out in a rectangular shape due to lack of space, you should now cut out old growth, leaving younger wood to do the business. When you have achieved the result you want, are too tired to climb another step, and/or need the fire brigade to remove you from your perch, sprinkle some bone meal over the roots to repay your depredations. Then stop.

Euphorbia characias wulfenii (Mediterranean spurge)

If your tree bears fruit on the end of the branches, prune a few old shoots each year, making the cut to a strong shoot or bud. Remove crowded growth in pursuit of endless production of young, healthy prolific shoots. Remember that pruning will make a plant grow; if you give a tree a general all-over thrashing, next year it will resemble a hay stack with lots of leaf but not much else. There are plenty of online sites for more useful advice. I am always happy to recommend the Royal Horticultural Society, who even have a page headed “Pruning Made Easy”. When you have sharpened your secateurs, bought a new pruning saw that cuts cleanly and followed all of the expert opinion, you should be rewarded with a bumper harvest. If you don’t want to leave your comfortable chair just yet, you have until March to finish this job. Perhaps you may want to research recipes for future bounty or clear out the freezer to make room for next autumn’s gifts. I give you a word of warning; beware of apple and ginger chutney, which has a laxative effect of apocalyptic proportions. Stew up a batch if you must but don’t give it to anyone that you actually like.

Last year, my beloved son used all of the cheddar for cheese on beans on toast for lunch on Xmas Eve. The following day when I went to the fridge for ingredients, I returned empty handed. I love my boy but I’m aware of his short term relationship with anything that he finds in my kitchen. I have just received a number of juicy looking packets as gifts and unless I get them planted quickly, I’m likely to find that they have been anointed with the last of the cream, grilled and eaten.

This year’s Hippeastrum (amaryllis)

Hippeastrum (amaryllis) are usually sold in kit form with a tiny plastic pot without drainage holes and a few teaspoons of thin compost. First step is to drill into the base of the container, provided that the festivities to date haven’t left you with trembling hands and blurred eyesight. If you can’t see straight or are otherwise discomforted by too much food and drink, go and get one from the potting shed. Clean the vessel with washing up liquid, since bugs from outside may go ballistic in the warmth of your house. Fill with potting compost, mixed with a little bone meal. Don’t add too much fertiliser, as Sod’s Law says that the suspicious smell will outweigh the pleasure to be obtained from luscious but sadly unperfumed blossom.

Last year

Plant the bulb well down in the soil, with its neck and shoulders exposed. Firm it down gently and avoid damaging the roots. If you add a stake to support the bloom, you will avoid injuring essential growing parts later but your naked stick may look a little silly. If you insert the post once growth is underway, you risk spearing something important. The choice is yours. Water sparingly since too much moisture, especially when there are no leaves, will make the whole plant rot. Regularly feel the compost with your fingers, to check that it is not too dry or too wet. Put the pot inside a waterproof container and place it in a bright position such as a sunny windowsill but not near a radiator. Turn it occasionally, so that the foliage and stems don’t all lurch to one side. If you get it right, the plant will bloom in six to eight weeks after starting the whole procedure. Move it into a cooler location once the buds break and you will extend the performance. After flowering, keep it just moist and allow the leaves to wither and die back. Store the bulb in a cool, dry place and start the rigmarole again in late autumn.

Year before

Amaryllis was a nymph who gave her heart to Alteo, who didn’t return her affections. Another doomed love story, the flower represents pride, determination and radiant beauty. If you get a second season from it, you are entitled to all three. I apologise for the title of this piece and the implied reference to a nasty song devoid of lyrical or musical merit; I feel cheap, conceited and dirty.

And we all know what that is paved with. I have long since discarded my well intentioned New Year’s resolutions as gin soaked Xmas pipe dreams. I may never be able to play the cello, sing like Callas or fit a dress size eight. I’m certainly not going to get any taller at this late stage. If I am to achieve Sissinghurst by the Sea, I need to make some plans, quickly, before my determination evaporates. I have a list of essential prerequisites:
– Moss treatment for lawns
– Highly adhesive systemic weed killer for ground elder (including vital accurate application method).
– Bricklayer’s telephone number to repair two crumbling walls.
– Strange wire brush/”V” shaped implement for removing scrot from paving.
– Sensible purchases of seeds and plants to cover known weaknesses.
– No more Dahlias, not one, I’ve got enough.
– Refurbished spine, shoulders and legs for the implementation of the points above.

Rose hips

I have spent the last two weeks in the kitchen, wrangling arcane ingredients into tasty meals for family, guests, neighbours and the occasional passing stranger. Throughout the culinary binge I have been aware of a small part of my brain, dedicated to various strategies for garden improvement. There is a tiny voice which nags me about necessary but unglamorous jobs such as pond clearout and manure dispersal. She bitches regarding getting serious about eradicating jack by the hedge, dandelions, dock and other perennial weeds. The woman badgers, pesters and plagues me about any possible plan for ventilation in the conservatory which doesn’t allow access to cold air.

Ophiopogon planiscapus ‘nigrescens’ (black lilyturf)

I find that the internal dialog can be quietened by judicious application of chilled white wine. Chocolate is something of a quick fix, lasting little longer than the moment of consumption. Domestic disaster such as exploding ovens and defrosting fridges claim my attention for longer, until ceiling, walls and floors are swabbed and the appropriate craftsman has been called to the rescue.

Crab apple

There is a hard frost outside, so the weeding will have to wait. No-one needs feeding and the household equipment is behaving normally. Boxes or bottles are empty and recycled and the tide of adversity has been stemmed so I’m free to wallow in the fabulous books on plants that I received as gifts. I can browse the heaps of shiny catalogues which tempt me to purchase the unsuitable, expensive or illicit. I’m off to my favourite armchair for further important research. The sensible supervisor in my head can get stuffed and go to…